


Santa, Cutie

by SkyRose



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, enough song references for a 4k fic, harry's santa claus, idk their teens, its a paaaaarrrrtttyyy, its louis' bday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2762387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyRose/pseuds/SkyRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Louis' eighteenth birthday. Harry's Santa Claus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Santa, Cutie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teapotpourri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teapotpourri/gifts).



> So this is really short and I'm not very content with how it turned out but I finished this the day before it was due because I'm such a procrastinator. Oops! I think this sorta goes with the prompt, I just wish I had gave myself more time to write this. This could a been so cute. So sorry if this isn't what you had in mind. :( Oh well, at least I have enough song titles jammed in here.
> 
> (title from the Madonna's classic Santa Baby)

You’d really think after how many birthdays/Christmases Louis would be very used to the pre-party panic. This includes him sweating through a shirt as he rushes around his house, bossing his lovely friends around like they didn’t kindly volunteer to help, and of course the worrying that he will have the worst birthday this year because he can’t get his shit together. This year it seems to be amplified, maybe it’s because he’s turning eighteen and he decided it would be a wonderful idea to have photobooth for guests. Louis seriously regrets the idea, the photographer hasn’t shown yet and he really would like to make sure his set up is good enough.

“Louis, why don’t you sit down,” Louis hears a voice say before a hand rests on his shoulder. Louis shrugs it off, continuing to sort cookies he made over the last few days (with his sister, of course) onto his mum’s china.

“Don’t have time, Z. There’s still so much to set up and—”

“We’ll take care of it, Lou. Most’s done anyways. You have enough food to feed an army and enough lights up to rival the sun. You’re worrying too much,” Zayn pointed out gently.

“‘M not!” Louis whines.

“Are too.”

“‘M not!”

“I’m not playing games, Tommo. Go relax, have some tea, take a walk, we’ll be fine without you,” Zayn tries, rubbing Louis’ arm.

Louis glances around the room, watching his friends that are faithfully doing there jobs of setting up certain things. “Fine,” Louis sighs reluctantly.

Everyone collectively sighs.

“What?” Louis demands, obviously offended at everyone’s thankful expressions.

“Sorry mate, but you’ve kinda been driving us mad,” Niall shrugs, plugging in something to his laptop. He’s DJing with Liam’s help.

“What? I have not! I’m a delight!” Louis scoffs, waving a hand around.

“Not when you’re stressed, you’re a nightmare!” Eleanor retorts as she strings up garland.

“Go Lou, we’ve got this,” Zayn whispers encouragingly and Louis starts slowly making his way to the front door.

“ _‘M not a fucking nightmare,_ ” he mumbles as he grabs his coat off its hanger, planning on getting some calming tea at the nearest place he can find.

\---

When Louis returns he’s refreshed, relaxed, and so ready for his party. He’s also pleasantly surprised to see that he really can trust his friends, all the sweets are lined along the table and classic holiday carols are already blasting from the speakers. Glittering lights shimmer around his warm house and a pile of wrapped presents are in his living room. He is taken back when he sees a bearded man in a red suit eating cookies on his couch as he laughs with Eleanor.

“Um? Santa Claus?” Louis asks, there must have been something in that tea, as he approaches the deep voiced male. Santa and El turn to him.

“Yep!” Mr. Claus cheers. “Looks like the birthday boy decided to join us! Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!”

“Harry Styles?” Louis breathes, not quite believing his eyes, because if they aren’t then his green-eyed crush is sitting on his spot on the couch, in a red suit and with crumbs in a fake beard, on his birthday.

“Shush! I’m Santa Claus!” Harry whispers childishly.

“What are you doing here, Curly? And why are you in such a ridiculous get-up?” Louis questions, he’s never been so lost in his life.

Harry sighs defeatedly at Louis not playing along. “Zayn called, thought it be a great idea to the people sit on Santa’s lap for pictures. Mind you he warned me it probably just be drunk girls, but here I am!” he explains and makes flashy hands towards his outfit.

“Zayn,” Louis grumbles. He should have known.

“Yes, Zayn. So would you like to take a picture on Santa’s lap before the crowd arrives?” Harry tries.

“I’ll take up you offer later H. I need to go talk to someone first,” Louis winks before he sets off to find Zayn Malik. He also stops for a break in his bathroom for a breather and a cold water splash to the face. Harry Styles is the cutest person alive, and Louis is so in love. He finds Zayn in his backyard, smoking a cigarette, and chatting with Liam and Niall. The nerve of him.

“Malik!” Louis shouts at the trio. “What were you thinking?”

“I’m guessing you spoke to Harry,” he smirks in reply.

“Spoke to — yes I fucking spoke to him! What are you thinking! I’m going to be drunk all night with Harry Styles in my house! Do you want me to publicly embarrass myself on my birthday?”

“Yes,” the traitor says while Niall falls to the ground for a jolly fit of laughter.

“Wrong answer,” Louis bites. “But I can't send him home. So you three have the faithful duty of making sure I don’t do anything dumb around him. Which means no alcohol for any have you.”

“What?” Niall asks incredulously, sobering up greatly from his humorous hysteria.

“No way,” Zayn groans.

“ _Louis,_ ” Liam whines.

“Nope, nope. It’s decided. Karma’s a bitch,” Louis finalizes, lifting his chin up greatly.

“Oh come on Tommo! It was Zayn’s came up with the scheme! Just one drink for lil ole me?” Niall begs. The Irish and their alcohol.

“Nuh-uh, you’ll all pay,” Louis dictates, shaking his head. “Just like I hope you’re generously paying Harry for his — erm — _duties._ ”

“Oh trust me, I tried,” Zayn replies. “Told me it was your birthday present or summat.”

“Well,” Louis begins reluctantly. “Tell him I say thank you.”

“Go tell him yourself.” Oh great, he’s mad.

“Maybe I will,” Louis chirps before turning around and entering his house. Guests will be arriving soon, so he heads for the front door, readying himself for the greetings. Jingle Bell Rock plays weakly in the background, he can't hear it properly from the front of his home, but it’s audible enough for him to make out the lyrics, he also clearly hears when Harry Styles belts out the lyrics along with anyone else who’s in the room he’s occupying. It truly isn’t fair how endearing he is. Danielle and Perrie are the first to arrive, which isn’t surprising, they’re probably _dying_ to see Zayn and Liam. How dare his friends be in relationships while he remains crushing on a straight sweetheart. Niall’s single, at least.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Perrie questions after wishing him a happy birthday and shoving a present into his arms.

“Couples, love, Santa Claus,” Louis murmurs, scrubbing a hand over his face. The girls give him a confused look. “You’ll see. Be some dears and being these to the living room, I’m going to have my first legal drink.” He hands them the gifts and heads to the kitchen, thinking greeting to first guests to arrive is enough, he’s sure Niall will handle the rest. He may have promised himself he wouldn’t drink until at least eight, some people will want actually conversations with him, but _fuck it._ He’s eighteen, he’ll celebrate.

“Here,” Zayn says as soon as he sees Louis’ entered the kitchen, before sliding a beer across the counter-top impressively. “It took you five minutes longer than I thought it would, now I owe Liam five pounds.”

“Wait, what?”

“For you to, ah, how did Stan phrase it? ‘Drown your sorrows in liquor.’ Niall and I are betting on if you’ll sing Last Christmas in front of everyone. You always did like that song,” Zayn explains, but really just make Louis more and more confused.

“You were betting on my pain?” Louis inquires. “I need better friends.”

“Better friends?” Niall exclaims as he makes an entrance.

“We’re the bestest friends!”

“Bestest is not a word,” Louis states, unamused.

“Go tell that to your boyfriend,” Niall laughs. “He is quite a laugh. I can see why you fancy him so much.” Louis shushes him, Niall’s a naturally loud talker and Harry could be anywhere. An-y-where. Niall eyes the bottle Louis’ sips from. He wouldn’t be surprised if he snatches it right from his grasp. Louis promises himself to not be angry when he catches the blond sneaking some whiskey later, he’s not _that_ much of a twat. “Harry’s looking for you actually. Said something about a picture, and I hope you do take one with him. On his lap. While telling him what you want for Christmas is,” Niall prophecies and him and Zayn proceed to sing out the chorus of ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You.’

“Very funny,” Louis says with a roll of his eyes, and after respectively waiting for Zayn to finish his heavenly high note.

“You should go get a picture though,” Zayn says with a pointed look. Louis begins to walk away, he’s had enough of them, as Zayn loudly adds, “It would be a nice thing to do!” Whatever. Zayn knows nothing.

\---

“C’mon over, birthday boy!” Harry shouts at him while patting his lap. God, what did Zayn tell him? He feels like he’s being mocked. He’s been keeping a close eye on his guests that decide to take a photo — okay, you got him, he’s been keeping a close eye on _Harry,_ and whoever dare to sit on his lap for a photograph. So far it had been only Harry’s mates, a few straight boys who think they’re _so_ funny, and a group giggly girls who recognize who those green eyes belong to. He is a charmer among the ladies. “Once everyone’s drunk the line’ll be too long!” Harry calls and Louis only rolls his eyes, blushing slightly.

“Later, Mr. Claus,” Louis says just loud enough for Harry to hear. He grins at Louis, throwing him a thumbs up. His heart flutters in his chest.

“You drunk yet? Should I be watching you?” Liam asks once Louis’ a safe distance from Harry.

“No, I’m fine at the moment. Just politely declined his request of sitting on his lap,” Louis mutters as he nurses his third bottle of beer. He’ll be feeling the effects soon enough.

“Woah. Yeah, that’s only something a sane and sober Louis Tomlinson could do,” Liam agrees in a mocking way.

“Shut up.” Louis throws a glance at Harry, who’s got a tipsy-looking girl on his lap, whispering something in his ear that makes his eyes go wide.

“Doesn’t look like he’s enjoy the lady company, you know?” Liam says, his eyes staring humorously at Santa.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis questions before Liam nodding off muttering something about finding Danielle. His friends are so useless. Louis decides to seek out Eleanor, she’s always great to talk to when he’s lovesick, and she likes talking about cute boys, ‘cause she find boys, you know, /cute. He reaps those benefits often.

“He’s got women on his _lap_ ,” Louis moans as he downs a fifth drink. “Do you think he’s waiting for some girl he fancies to sit on him?” Eleanor rolls her eyes.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you _ask him_ ,” she says and punctuates the sentence with a shove in Saint Nicholas’ direction.

“Nope. You should. And ask him if he likes you hideous sweater while your at it,” Louis snickers, spreading out his limbs on the couch he lies on.

“You gave me this sweater,” Eleanor states, not understanding why he’d insult a gift he gave.

“I know. It was a _joke_ ,” he giggles. “I saw it and knew it was the ugliest thing I have and will ever see. It reminded me of you.”

“Aw, how sweet,” she replies insincerely. “Has anyone told you you’re an annoying and rude drunk?”

“Liam has told me that five times in the last two months actually, so yes,” Louis answers thoughtfully.

“And a lightweight too, how many have you had?” Eleanor asks, he can tell she’s concerned and trying to hide it.

“Ha, this many!” He holds up five fingers while he grins dreamily. This is the bestest birthday. Bestest, maybe it is a word. He laughs.

“What are you laughing at?” Eleanor asks, her eyes glowing with irratation.

“Your bestest sweater!” Louis exclaims before engulfing his friend in a bear hug.

“I think it’s Zayn turn to watch you.”

\---

It doesn’t take long for Louis to figure out that his friend’s are watching him in shifts. Shifts that aren’t seperated by any times periods, they simply change when Louis gets bored of whoever he’s talking to and runs off to find another friend to rant about Santa Claus, a friend who pulls him to the side so he doesn’t publicly embarrass himself and reveal who he fancies to everyone in sixth form. Niall has the so called _burden_ of minding him at the moment. Perhaps he isn’t as lucky as he always makes himself seem. He’d probably be dating whoever the hottest girl in school is, Louis doesn't know of course, he despises women. Or at least feels really, really grossed out at the thought of having sex with one of them. Unlike Niall, who keeps pointing out so called ‘fit’ lasses.

“I don’t like boobs Ni, stop making me stare at him,” Louis complains after Niall’s brought attention to the fourteenth girl, who looks very similar to the third.

“Then stop waving your alcohol in my face. _I’m_ not allowed to drink,” Niall snaps back. He’d always been the low-key sassy type. The opposite of Louis, who was very high-key sassy, if that even makes sense. He’s too drunk for intellectual thinking.

“You can have _one_ drink,” Louis says. He’ll let the leprechaun suffer a little less if it means he can stop staring to breasts and asses that belong to the wrong sex. The only sex he likes is Harry — wait, no — male.

“Nah, can’t anyway. Promised my mum I wouldn’t. We’re going to my grandparents and she’d prefer me to not be bitchy and with an hangover,” Niall shrugs sadly.

“Well, it’s a good thing you're rarely bitchy and even more rarely get hangovers,” Louis cheers before handing Niall the beer he’d been sipping from. Niall gives him a sunshine-like smile before chugging the three-quarter full bottle in one go. The Irish are magic.

“Has anyone ever told you you're an amazingly kind and generous drunk?” Niall asks after he’d swallowed the enormous amount of liquid.

“You know what? They haven’t!” Louis shouts ridiculously.

“Whadda shame! You’re the nicest person I know!” Niall whoops back with a laugh.

“It’s a good thing I have you around to give me credit,” Louis says sleepishly as he give Niall a hug.

“You need to give the drinks a rest for a while,” Niall chuckles into Louis’ hair.

“Is that all you people talk about?” Louis asks him.

“Only when your wasted. Let’s get some cake, yeah?” he offers and doesn’t let Louis answer before he’s dragging him to the snack table.

“I still need to blow out my candles,” Louis informs as he stares at the chocolate cake his friends bought for him, apparently none of them can bake. Niall nods at him, then grabs a fork and wildly clangs it against his bottle until everyone’s attention is on them and Liam’s turned down the volume of the music. Niall gives a loud and sincere speech about Louis, that he would probably appreciate more if his brain wasn’t all sloshed up, and Zayn appears out of the crowd to give his own little spiel about his best friend. Stan lights the candles and Eleanor has her camera ready, the expensive one her parents got her two birthdays ago and rarely takes out, only for truly special occasions. Louis stands in front of his cake as all his closest friends surround him and the multitude of guests chant the birthday song lyrics. He grins at everyone, the amount of attention he’s getting fills his veins and his body exploding when he can make out Harry voice chiming powerfully. He focuses on the his cake, watching as the flickering candles start to melt and illuminate the glittery blue, green, and red sprinkles his friends possibly requested as a joke. He guesses the cake is red velvet, his birthday cake is _always_ red velvet. The snow-white frosting is laid on thickly and scarlet cursive letters spell out _Happy 18th Birthday Louis!_ along with polka dots surround the words. Niall gives him some sort of hand signal and Louis blows out his candles. He misses one, always does, but quickly puffs that one out as well. Everyone shouts out a final _HAPPY BIRTHDAY!_ before the music returns and they go back do dancing, eating, or drinking.

“You wanna piece?” Eleanor asks as her and Stan cut the cake and place the slices onto the paper plates Zayn had picked up just an hour before the party. Louis hums and gives a slight nod. El hands her a plate and he follows Niall to some open chairs they’d set up for the drunk and tired.

“I’m gonna go swap places with Liam. You stay right here,” Niall instructed cautiously.

“’M not a kid. Go have fun, I’ll be okay,” Louis says with a wave. He pokes at his dessert, before taking his first bite. “Oh my god. Try this!” He shoves the plate towards Niall’s face.

“I’ll take your word for it and get some for meself. Me and Li will keep an eye on you, so do whatever ya want if you think you can handle it,” he says glancing at Liam who’s eyes are trained onto his laptop’s screen.

“’Course. ’M an adult,” he slurs as he takes bite after bite of the heavenly cake.

“I’ll have someone find ya in an hour, so don’t run off to far,” Niall responds.

“Oh fuck off. I don’t need you all minding me, I was _kidding_.”

“Doesn’t mean we aren’t concerned. Don’t be pissed at us when you sick up on your mum’s favourite rug.”

“I won’t be. _Go._ ”

“Fine, happy birthday you twat.”

“Happy Christmas you dick.” Niall leaves at last, and Louis left to peacefully finish his cake. Which is quite possibly the best thing his taste buds have experienced in a long while. His bladder tells him it’s time to use the bathroom, so he finds a rubbish bin to throw away the plate before heading there. Unlucky for him, it’s right by where the photographer is set up.

“Ho ho ho! Is the birthday boy finally going to sit up here on Santa’s lap?” St. Nick exclaims as he walks by, after he’d successfully thrown away this garbage. Louis nervously scratches the back of his neck, pressing his lips together as he carefully thinks about his next words.

“Later, Sty—Claus! Bit too tipsy at the moment.” Santa frowns, at least that’s what Louis thinks, he’s too far away for his blurred vision. He blinks rapidly, perhaps he should go fetch his glasses.

“Really? Give it an hour and come back ’round, yeah?” Harry tries and Louis offended at the kindness of this elderly man. Santa is truly a saint.

“Sure, mate,” Louis slurs, feeling drunker by the second. Love drunk is something so, so dangerous. He skips to his bedroom, sneaking down the hall and snatching his glasses off his dresser. They make him feel sophisticated, and he needs it now. Alcohol is a roller coaster. He returns to the blaring music and dancing teenage bodies before he feels grabby hands latching onto his arms and too many girls’ shrill voices shouting his name, almost demanding he dances with them.

\---

The rest of the night is blurry. He remembers something about Liam and Zayn getting caught under some mistletoe and someone daring them to snog, and Zayn seemed a bit too okay with it, for a taken man. Niall left with Barbra, a girl he’s been chasing after a while and way, way out of his league, in his arms and messy hair. Eleanor was drunk enough to chat about how shit of a kisser Louis was, they dated a few years back when he wasn’t out yet, and Louis yelled how fake it was and shoved his tongue down the throat of the boy next to him. To top it all off, Louis didn’t make a fool of himself in front of Harry, he’s fairly sure he didn’t see Santa Claus in the crowd that surrounded him when he snogged the poor nameless lad. _Fairly_ sure.

He somehow managed to his bed. No, Stan somehow managed to wrangle Louis to his bed, because that’s who’s passed out on his bedroom rug when he wakes up. He pads right past him, no blinking an eye. He finds sleeping bodies _everywhere_ in his home. He decides the most polite way to wake them and kick them up is by blasting Hannah Montana’s cover of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree from his crappy iPod speakers, immediately making everyone jump upon hearing. One by one the file out, rubbing their eyes and muttering. He walks to the kitchen for breakfast once he’s woken his guests and most have left. He isn’t surprised to find Liam and Eleanor helping themselves to some toast… and eggs and bacon and— “Are you eating my cereal?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut it Li! El is eating _my_ cereal!” Louis exclaims before stomping to her and snatching her bowl from her dainty hands. “You _know_ this is _my_ cereal. I don’t let anyone eat, not my mum, not my dad, not my sisters, so definitely not _you!_ ”

“It’s a shame Harry was just in here munching away at it then,” Eleanor responds, a hint of challenge lay in her eye.

“Harry? Harry Styles? Is he still here?” Louis whispers in shock, because _fuck_ and _fuck yes_.

“Said somethin’ about the bathroom last I saw him,” she shrugs, tilting her head as if the direct Louis.

He bolts.

He sprints right out of the kitchen and to his bedroom to change into something that didn’t smell like someone died in it, makes some quick adjustment to his hair, checks to see if his breath is _that bad_ or _go fucking brush your teeth,_ and strolls back out calmly. He might’ve left by now, but it’s better than him seeing him his previous state.

He eats breakfast and no Harry, takes a piss — maybe brushes his teeth too — and no Harry, he wanders into the living room to watch some cartoons and… yes Harry. He’s crouched down, picking up paper plates and plastic cups from the floor as he whistles a catchy tune. It’s only after he’s thrown what he’d collected and straightened up when his eyes rest on Louis.

“Oh. Hey, Lou,” he greets with warm eyes. He’d no longer wearing the ridiculous kit he had on before, just a plain t-shirt and jeans. He must’ve brought a change of clothes.

“Hi. Um, you don’t have to clean up—”

“No, it’s fine, really. It was kinda bothering me anyway,” Harry admits with a shy grin.

“I’ll help you then,” Louis offers, and Harry responds with a nod. They get to work. With two pairs of hands working, they make quick time, and a great team. Louis expertly tosses crumpled plates into the rubbish bin and brags about it while Harry misses and misses, saying Louis’ a lucky shot. Once there almost down, he looks over at Harry to find him bent down in a corner, looking at something on the carpet. Louis walks over to investigate.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I thought I saw some…” he trails off, standing up fully again.

“Some what?”

“Mistletoe.”

“Mistletoe? On the floor?” Harry silently shakes his head, tilting his head up while pointing at the ceiling. Sure enough, it’s mistletoe.

“You’re kidding,” Louis breathes, while squinting at the bit of plant hanging down.

“I think you owe me a kiss.” Louis’ head never snapped down so fast before. Bit of whiplash.

“Owe you?”

“You never sat took a picture with me, and I was gonna ask what you want for Christmas and give it to you and maybe ask you out and — mmmph!”

Louis would stay attached to Harry's lips for an eternity, to Niall skips into the room, making their plush lips pull away after only seconds of their first touch. Niall's eyes widen and he insanely grins, and being the clever lad he is breaks into song, "I SAW LOUIS, KISSING SAAAANTA CLAUS. UNDERNEATH THE MISTLETOE..." Louis stops listening and continues to snog the crush he thought was hopeless.

Harry’s lips are all he needs for his birthday, Christmas, and whatever else is to come.

_fin._


End file.
